


We Can Find Our Own Way

by orphan_account



Category: Duran Duran, Duran Duran (Music Videos)
Genre: Band Fic, Black and red, Body Image, Boys To Men, Costumes, First Kiss, Fluff, Forehead Touching, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, dressing up, music video, parakeet, suit and tie, video shoot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Screaming scarlet and noir or not, stupid geometric shapes and a crazily upbeat track that left them both winded or not, they were well and truly finding theirOwn Way.
Relationships: Nick Rhodes/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	We Can Find Our Own Way

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Roger’s sinfully sexy strut and looks in the _My Own Way _music video. The first time I watched that with my mother we both let out a little pleased sigh, eyes locked with his. Goddamn.__

“Cut!”

Well and truly lost in a trance, wrists jerking at top speed and he could barely make out his sticks, it took Roger a moment to hear. He was exhausted, muscles aching and a slight sweat had formed atop his face. Playing in a suit was torture. He longed for his tank tops and rolled up trousers, a studded belt and white jazz shoes. He wasn’t too sure the suit look was right for him yet.

It took a moment to notice why he had been wasting film. The parrot.

“Blimey” he muttered under his breath, a small smile appearing as he rose to his feet.

The bird had left a lovely gift for him atop his snare drum. He backed off, catching Nick’s eye who had turned to him and was now laughing back.

“Better me than you, huh?” He stated, voice small, nodding to Nick’s keyboards now bird free.

“You’ve got that right.”

The director called, both men needing a moment to detangle their new instructions. Whilst somebody sorted out the parrot. Wherever it was. Parakeet?

“Who’s idea was to feature the bird anyway?” Now stood beside the keyboardist, Roger muttered.

Parakeet.

“Not a clue. An attempt at showing our exotic side? Not a route I would expect Duran to go down, personally.”

Roger chuckled, eyeing Nick and his borderline orange hair as he did so.

More than ready for a break from his drums, he and Nick headed to the dressing room leaving the red and black disarray of the studio further behind. It was early days and they were still sharing them, not that any band member really seemed to mind.

Roger straightened up upon hearing the door close behind them, Nick locking it. He stood before a small, grimy mirror, brown eyes taking in his sweat slick face. Needing to wipe at his forehead he sighed, hands heading straight to his military jacket and stupid tassels, then cream shirt: Roger whipped it off and used it to mop up the sweat.

He uncovered miles of beautifully tanned skin, lightly muscled pecs and delightfully muscled arms. The sudden rush of air helped to cool his skin and he felt naked, not that he was fully but he definitely felt on show. He was shy about it of course but it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything to withdraw himself away from.

He could feel Nick’s heavy gaze on his bare back, sinews and smooth skin.

Coughing he breathed, “shall we?”

Peering over his shoulder he watched Nick as he rummaged through the costume rack, picking out their suit pieces. Nick laid them out across the back of a chair and beckoned Roger over.

Roger had a deft hand atop his trouser button, debating whether or not he could muster the courage to pop it open and pull down his zip. He hovered there briefly before turning away, a light flush coating his cheeks.

He felt incredibly naked now.

“It’s okay, I.. I’ll come back” there was a rustle from behind him, coaxing Roger to pivot round on his heel.

“No, no, I’m just” he paused, crossing his arms and running them up and down his skin, “it’s fine. Let’s just get changed.”

They did just that, gazes pointlessly averted and the room was getting hotter, all the extra layers of rich fabric were choking the drummer’s suddenly heated skin.

Fumbling with the bow tie he dipped his head down to get a closer view in the mirror, slightly puzzled.

“Please, let me.”

Shyly, Roger nodded and handed Nick the bow tie. He had never tied one on himself, he much preferred an actual tie that he could get a handle on.

Coming up behind him, Roger stiffened. His chocolate eyes widened and he couldn’t hide the small smile that crept across his handsome face upon seeing two deft hands wrap around him. He forced himself to relax, to engulf a breath and let Nick get to work. His quick fingers making short work of the bow tie and the moment was over, far too quick. Roger had found himself leaning into those light touches, eyes slipping shut and grin growing wider: exposing two cute dimples and a furrowing brow as he fought not to laugh and break the moment.

“There” Nick was still pressed up behind him, “perfect. Incredibly handsome, not a hair out of place.”

There was a smooth, manicured hand laying atop his right shoulder. He could feel it through his tuxedo jacket and shirt, Nick’s grip was warm and stable.

“Shall we?” Nick had motioned to the door long before Roger realised it.

He still had a hand atop of him, the touch was comforting and stifling all at once. Again Roger was leaning into it, both boys seemed to make the moment linger. They made the tender touch last.

Roger nodded once, solemn. His eyes followed Nick’s outstretched hand as it palmed the door knob, Roger’s own leaning out to unlatch the lock. He and Nick were incredibly close, a welcome invasion of body heat, flesh almost touching. Roger wasn’t sure but he could’ve sworn Nick’s hand hadn’t moved, he was waiting for something.

Slowly, Roger inched his right hand lower down the door, hovering right above Nick as he palmed the knob. Nick slipped his hand from it and Roger’s took its place. The touch was small, it was everything. Nick radiated warmth and Roger wondered whether he could burn him up, well and truly hot under the collar.

The keyboardist switched their places so now he was pressed up against the door, there was no distance between them. Their eyes locked, a smokey hazel over a piercing brown, and Roger’s lips parted. He caught sight of Nick’s own, the scarlet that caressed them, and felt the sheer need to taste them. His colour, his scent.

Surprised at himself for doing so, all senses were running from him as he found himself leaning in closer, angling his head down, searching for Nick. Their lips touched briefly, it was shy and reserved but he quickly found his way. Nick’s ruby lips readily parted under him, their movements were slow to savour every moment. Every heated exchange of breath, every heated flick of tongue.

Roger gasped into Nick’s mouth upon feeling his hands in his hair, deft fingers running up his covered arms to settle at the back of his neck. Roger was falling deeper, Nick’s mouth was so warm and inviting that he had him pinned, moulding his beautifully built body into Nick’s smaller, precious frame.

The need for air was stifling and both boys found it hard to part, panting but they kept close. Cheek to cheek, their breaths deepened as they struggled to regain their voices. Only little chuckles, a passing moan filled the small space. A sudden wave of confidence flickered over Roger, his eyes coated in a newfound admiration for the man before him. At only nineteen, there was so much promise and potential building up for the keyboardist: he had Roger caught in a trance by how mystical he was, how dedicated and ready to face the world he was.

Roger was shaken from his daze upon feeling those lush lips caress his own again. The kiss was quick, chaste, Nick having remembered what they were here for.

“We must get out there, the women” Nick trailed off, biting into his bottom lip.

Both blushing, Roger sweating beneath his shirt, they composed themselves. A soft hand ran through his hair, Nick returning each sprayed strand to its rightful place. It still needed to be gelled down for this shot but Roger didn’t mind, turns out he liked having Nick’s fingers stroke him like that.

“Yeah we, they have to do… whatever it is to us” Roger chuckled, finding Nick’s gaze now easier to hold.

A sudden prick from down below, a fire pooling in his stomach, told Roger that maybe, just maybe, he’d like Nick’s fingers to stroke him elsewhere. All over, sending shivers up his spine.

“What are they going to do to us, Nick?”

“I haven’t the foggiest.”

Once Nick was content with Roger’s hair, having fluffed it up again and smoothed out his rumpled collar, he broke away to turn and face the door. Roger jumped as he felt a hand, Nick’s hand, wrap around his own again. His own callouses biting into the baby soft skin as Nick held him tighter. A subtle squeeze that spoke volumes.

“Let’s get to hair and makeup” Roger murmured, nuzzling Nick’s neck as he did so.

Nick gripped his hand tighter in response, the coolness of his pinky ring helping to soothe the heat of Roger’s palm. Together they unlatched the lock and twisted open the door knob, sliding out without breaking contact.

Roger revelled in it, the fire igniting from between them. Letting Nick lead him down the hall. Screaming scarlet and noir or not, stupid geometric shapes and a crazily upbeat track that left them both winded or not, they were well and truly finding their _Own Way._


End file.
